Nefertiti didn't shed a tear, when her husband Akhenaten died. She was a practical woman. Her people could not afford to see her tears now. She blinked back her grief, and caught her son Tutankhaten, who stood wide eyed by the door, by the wrist. She placed him on the throne.
"You are ruler now" she whispered.
Carter bristled in anger, and swatted a fly. The hot desert sands of Egypt were really getting on his nerves.
He looked around, where was that accursed tomb?
He'd managed to mislead the excavation team elsewhere, but he was having trouble finding the fifteen steps himself. He was named after Howard Carter, the archaeologist who found king Tutankhamun's tomb, now he was following in his footsteps.
If only he could find that tomb.
Carter rummaged around in his backpack, suddenly the ground under him gave way. But he didn't fall. Instead, his foot caught on a step. A step which had heiroglyphs on it.
An eight year old Tutankhaten stepped into the library. He coughed a rasping cough and spat blood. It was three years since his father's death. He hardly remembered. He hobbled towards a row of tables, holding the walls for support. Through watery eyes, he found a panel and swept his fingers over it. A bookshelf turned back on itself.
Carter stared at the step uncertainly. Then he used his hands to take off the rest of the dirt. There were fifteen steps. Hurriedly, Carter slung his backpack over his shoulder and descended. He was in front of the doorway to the tomb. It was dark and dank. Carter grabbed a flashlight-